In the Dark
by dantesdarkqueen
Summary: Love between an priestly prince and a rogue is never exactly easy. But once both sides acknowledge it, nothing can tear them apart. Snapshots of Sebastian and Kilaen's life together.
1. In the Dark

**Summary: **Love is supposed to make you sing to the sky in joy. Loving a man of the cloth only makes Kilaen ashamed.

**Disclaimer: **If I've said it once, I've said it a million times...

**Queen's Quornor: **It's taken me several months to finally work up the spare change to purchase the two main downloads for DA2. I didn't think I'd like Sebastian, really, but once I started hanging around with him I realized he's actually a pretty cool guy. I don't really agree with his view on mages, but I do respect him enough to let him speak. Besides, listening to him talk is a total eargasm! So I got to thinking about what it might do to certain types of Hawkes who fell for this man, and Kilaen came into being. As you might guess, a rogue like her isn't entirely happy with her crush on the holiest man in the group...

In the Dark

Kilaen fisted her hair in her hands, burying her face against her drawn knees. The Chantry was not her usual refuge, but she had come here in the hope that the Maker could offer her some measure of peace. As it turned out, that had not been among her better ideas. Seeing the reason for her torment going about his duties at the altar had shattered her brief serenity, forcing her to flee into one of the storage areas off the entrance. Sheltering between a dusty statue of Andraste and several piled boxes, the rogue attempted to keep silent in spite of the tears she knew were racing down her cheeks.

Champion or not, she could only handle so much.

The door opened and she froze, scrunching herself deeper into her little nook so as not to be seen. The light was removed as the portal was pulled shut, leaving her bewildered and blind.

"I know you're in here, Kilaen."

Of all people, why him? Even Elthina would be easier to face right now!

She listened to his booted feet scrape softly along the floor, his calloused fingers dragging across the numerous stacks in a careful search of the darkness. At last his hand fell atop her head. "Found you," came his affectionate, purring broque. She could hear the smile in his tone. "Care to tell me why you're hiding in the storage room?"

Kilaen shook her head, unable to speak for the lump in her throat.

"Then I'll just sit here with you, until you feel ready." His hand slid away from her head and she listened to the faint jingles and scrapes that marked his journey to the floor across from her. His legs bumped against her lightly. "Cozy, isn't it?"

She nodded, fully aware he could not see her in the gloom.

"You aren't very good at hiding from me, you know." He chuckled softly, easing her misery and increasing her discomfort somewhat. It was such a pleasure just listening to him speak. "I saw you come in, even though you kept to the shadows. Most of the supplicants don't limit their wardrobe to unadorned black, and you have the longest hair in Kirkwall. When you ducked in here, I figured something was wrong. Are Meredith and Orsino giving you another headache?"

She snorted; that happened almost daily. This was hardly where she ran when she needed a break from their shouting matches. The Hanged Man was more her style than the Chantry.

"No, that couldn't be it. You only ran from the sanctuary when you spotted me." She could almost see him appraising her hidey-hole, his arms folded and one hand cupping his chin, one thumb smoothing along his jawline in thought. "I think I have it, so please indulge me my speculation. You ran because you didn't want to face me? Or do you not want to face what I represent to you?"

She squirmed beneath the imagined scrutiny of his electric-blue eyes, grateful to the friendly darkness for hiding her blush.

"I know you have feelings for me, Kilaen. You don't have to feel ashamed of them," he told her, his voice pure silken comfort. "Feel free to answer me any time you wish."

Kilaen wrapped her arms around her knees and chinned atop them, searching the gloom opposite her. "I can't help it, Sebastian. I have all these dreams and thoughts about you, and things I'd love to do with you. But you're so good, so pure, I want to hit myself for thinking about you that way. I defile you in my head, and you deserve better than that. You're my best friend, and I shouldn't think of you this way, but I - "

She stopped as a long finger came to rest on the corner of her lips, the tip further up her cheek than he likely intended. "It sounds to me as though you've placed me on top of some pedestal as a perfect example of what a Chantry brother should be. But you should know that I'm not as pure as you think."

"You already told me about all that."

"I'm not talking about my life before the Chantry. You see, of late I've been spending a lot of time in contemplation. But it's not because of my decision to retake Starkhaven." He cleared his throat and groped his way down her neck and arm, eventually finding her hand and holding it carefully between his palms. Kilaen blinked hard, wishing she could read his expression. The lack of a light source was becoming a tad annoying. "I've been having some rather impure thoughts myself. I can't seem to get this lovely, black-clad woman out of my head. Every time she gives me a lesson in advanced lockpicking or comes to speak with me about some escapade she has in mind, I crave even more time with her. I can't get enough, and I doubt I ever could."

She started to pull away, ashamed that she was tainting his goodness, but he held her firm. "There is only one escape from my vows, Kilaen. I renounced all but my chastity when I decided to avenge my family, and I have already talked to the Grand Cleric about this path." She felt the intensity of his gaze upon her and she shrank from it, in spite of the sudden frantic pace of her heart. "A vow of chastity may only be ended within the bonds of marriage. I've been wanting to discuss the matter with you, but it was never the right time."

"So it's the right time when we're crammed in a store room, unable to see our hands in front of our faces?" She laughed nervously. "How romantic."

"We're alone, aren't we?" He stroked the back of her hand, making her shiver lightly. "As Starkhaven's prince, there will be much expected of me. I'd prefer to face those challenges with you at my side, if you'll accept me."

"But I don't deserve you," she whispered, misery swallowing her. "I'm nothing but a thief, and I've been with other men. The only reason I'm Champion is because I tripped the Arishok and stabbed him until he stopped moving!" She looked away from his general area, feeling the tears rise again. "You're meant for great things, Sebastian. I'd just get in the way."

"No, you won't." He pulled her forward so she tumbled against his chest with a shocked gasp. When she tried to get away, he caged her in his arms. "I believe the Maker blessed you with extraordinary luck and skill, and you seem to think you are tainted somehow. You are not tainted in any way, and I think having you as my wife would only benefit Starkhaven. You are a mediator, and your silver tongue will be sorely needed in days to come."

"But you're the prince. Won't you be the diplomat?"

"I was never trained as my brothers in certain areas. I can soothe and listen, and make a decent argument to coax people into the Maker's arms, but diplomacy is not quite my strength. Besides, who would not listen to a beautiful woman such as yourself? You can be wily. I can't."

"Oh, I don't know." She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, finally letting herself hope a little. Maybe this wasn't some cruel dream. "You can be fairly sneaky when you want to be. Springing this on me where I can't see you certainly falls under that category."

"Be that as it may, you still haven't answered my question." He carefully smoothed some hair away from her face, fingers lingering on her cheekbone. "Would you come with me to Starkhaven, and become my princess?"

Kilaen threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, releasing only when she realized he probably couldn't breathe. "If you're willing to marry a Ferelden rogue of dubious origins with more luck than brains and monochromatic fashion sense, who am I to deny your pleasure?"

He laughed and embraced her in turn, then rose to his feet, lifting her with him. "Well, my sweet shadow. Shall we tender my resignation to Her Grace? I'm not quite certain she'll believe me unless you're there to confirm my choice."

"So you really were listening to me, all along." She peered where she assumed his eyes would be, envisioning the delighted curve of his lips as he held her in the dark. "I told you there was only so much good to be done as a member of the Chantry. As a prince, you can improve the lot of so many more people, no matter what the nobles say."

"If I hadn't listened, you would have beaten me over the head with you logic until I saw reason. So I am willing to re-enter the viper's nest, so long as you are with me."

She hugged him again, letting him shuffle them towards the door. "Always and forever, Sebastian."

Where before she felt shame, now she only felt joy. The sisters stared with open mouths as the Champion walked out of the store room with their royal brother, and Kilaen only offered them a satisfied smile in reply, ignoring the scandalized gossip which would surely erupt once they were out of sight. She was too satisfied with Sebastian's telling grin to feel small right now. And while Elthina tried to look stern and disapproving of their arms looped around each other's waists, Kilaen spotted the pleasure twinkling in the Grand Cleric's eyes.

Her shame at loving such a wonderful man could not exist in the face of her blessing.


	2. Stolen Kiss

**Summary: **Love between an priestly prince and a rogue is never exactly easy. But once both sides acknowledge it, nothing can tear them apart. Snapshots of Sebastian and Kilaen's life together.

**Disclaimer: **If I've said it once, I've said it a million times...

**Queen's Quornor: **I wasn't planning on making this a drabble fic. After the 100 plus chapters of "Evidence of Sephiroth's Humanity," a fic of that nature seemed a little unlikely for me to undertake once more. I thought I would write a oneshot about Sebastian and the rogue I created for him, and that would be that. Instead, I think I created a monster...again. But I do think there's going to be a running theme of darkness in this collection, though whether that will be situational, environmental, or purely due to Kilaen's appearance and fashion sense will depend on the individual chapters. What I already know is this will range everywhere from their time in Kirkwall to their life in Starkhaven, so expect a number of OCs to pop up every now and then. Thus, to kick off the official drabbles, here is a look at Kilaen from Sebastian's point of view, sometime before she was named Champion but after the Harrimans were killed.

Stolen Kiss

Being on watch certainly gave a man ample time to think, Sebastian reflected. He glanced back at his sleeping comrades, satisfied that their rest was peaceful, before returning his eyes to the silvery orb hanging full and heavy in the glimmering sky. There was little danger in this area, so he could afford to let his mind wander a bit. Besides, with Rosco along on this trip there would be plenty of warning if his attention went too far astray.

He looked back to the mabari snoring by his mistress's side, sprawled like a seal on the soft moss. Sebastian grinned, but his expression softened as his gaze drifted to the woman curled beside the dog.

In repose, she was undeniably a beauty. Kilaen was a fashionably pale woman, although the lightness of her skin was natural and unaugmented by cosmetics, and she had the longest rope of braided hair he had ever seen, the silken tresses a glossy match to the blackness overhead. She always dressed in black, rarely with any other colors for accent; awake, she reminded Sebastian of a panther with the sinuous grace of her movements, her hair swaying behind her.

He watched the embers of the dying fire paint shadows across her high cheekbones and full lips, remembered how her golden eyes shone when the fire was lively and the group chatted of small, unimportant things. The woman possessed an almost magnetic appeal to menfolk, whether she knew it or not. He had often caught Fenris staring at her lips while she spoke, and Anders followed her every moment with hungry eyes. Even Varric sometimes gazed upon her with less than pure intent, and Isabela had already declared her physical attraction to their leader. But Kilaen had never returned their interest. She regarded them all merely as friends.

Sebastian knew who she wanted, although she never spoke of her desires. He had often felt the caress of her golden eyes as they walked around Kirkwall and its environs. Once he had overheard Isabela attempting to give her seduction advice, "guaranteed to make a holy man break every vow in the book," according to the pirate. Kilaen, to his relief, had hurriedly changed the subject before he joined the conversation. But her cheeks had remained a faint pink the rest of that night, and she kept glancing at him when she thought he wasn't looking. If she didn't like him that way, then he was a red-haired nug.

Feeling a chill from the night air, the prince rubbed his arms and moved closer to the firepit, by coincidence kneeling next to Kilaen's bedroll. He traced her sleeping form with his eyes as he warmed his hands above the glowing cinders.

She was not a physically imposing woman. Kilaen was a small female, very compact in her musculature. Standing, the top of her head barely reached his collarbone. It made her capable of getting into spaces few others could follow, a huge benefit for a rogue such as her. But there was a surprising amount of power packed into that small form, and agility enough to turn any opponent into a whirling, stumbling fool as she tumbled all around them. She often used her quickness to set up prime shots for him. They worked extremely well together, considering that their outlooks were so different.

Sebastian had come to respect her views, even though he did not agree with many of them. Kilaen believed that many of the Chantry's teachings originated more from the circumstances of Andraste's life and death rather than her connection to the Maker. She did not see the point of isolating and punishing a substantial number of innocent people for the long-ago trespasses of a few, particularly when those at fault were dead centuries before. Anders could not sway her into militaristic action against the templars, but their beliefs were not so different. She and Sebastian had gotten into heated arguments over their interpretations of the Chant before, furious exchanges which left them panting and glaring at each other with clenched fists.

If he was completely honest with himself, Sebastian would have already acknowledged that he wanted her with every bone in his body. As it was, he had begun spending a lot more time praying for the Maker's guidance than before he met her. Scarcely a day went by that he didn't fight the urge to pull her into the nearest secluded spot and ravish her. Back in Starkhaven, he would have done so long ago; now, she was only driving him mad.

Kilaen was a torment of the sweetest kind, the sort of woman he would have found irresistable before his time with the Chantry. He could not forsake his vows, but he also could not deny that he was sorely tempted with every sway of her hips, every sideways glance of her tiger's eyes.

He leaned closer to her without thought, examining her sleeping face. Who would have believed such an inherently sensual woman could be so innocent in repose? The Maker must surely have spent a little more time creating her.

Too late, he realized his face was only inches from hers. This close, he could smell the faint remnants of the perfume she dabbed on her skin, the light fragrance of lilies combining with her natural scent to spin his senses. Kilaen murmured something and turned her head, offering her cheek.

His name, he realized with a start. She had whispered _his name. _

The Maker was testing him. That had to be it.

Still, the prince could not help lowering his head that slight, final distance to press a gentle kiss against that proffered cheek. He ached for it to be her lips instead, but that was too risky. Waking her was the last thing he wanted right now. It would be too awkward, explaining why the chaste prince was kissing her.

Reluctantly he sat back, relieved that none of their companions had stirred to witness his breach in etiquette. He finished warming himself hurriedly and returned to his rock, hoping the night's chill breeze would cool his ardor.

He folded his hands in yet another plea for divine guidance, but in his heart he knew the course he should take.

There would be no peace for him until he either cloistered himself entirely from her, or gave in and married the woman.


	3. Stormy Skies Part 1

**Summary: **Love between an priestly prince and a rogue is never exactly easy. But once both sides acknowledge it, nothing can tear them apart. Snapshots of Sebastian and Kilaen's life together.

**Disclaimer: **If I've said it once, I've said it a million times...

**Queen's Quornor: **I would think that Sebastian and Kilaen would be dissimilar in what they fear the most. He strikes me as the type to admire, even enjoy, displays of nature's power. Kilaen, being a rogue raised in a family of mages, might have learned to fear loud noises as a herald of Bethany's power acting up before she learned control, or tied noisy rackets to the danger of being discovered by the templars. That could easily have transferred into a genuine terror, such as brontophobia, as a child. I don't know exactly what the atmospheric climate is like around Kirkwall, but I imagine they would receive some pretty impressive storms every now and again.

Stormy Skies Part 1

Kilaen sat bolt upright in her bedroll, praying she had not heard what she thought she had. The rogue looked to the cave entrance, unable to see if the sky was shrouded in the night. Maybe she had imagined it. She put a hand to her chest, willing her racing heart to slow.

"Is something the matter?" Sebastian asked, glancing back at her sudden movement. He was leaning against the weathered stones, his posture relaxed with folded arms. There was a faint smile on his lips, and his eyes danced with joy at something. Kilaen was still wearing her bodysuit, so she doubted it was because of her.

"I...it's nothing," she replied, twisting her fingers in her blanket. "See anything?"

The prince shook his head, returning his attention to the cliffs. "There's quite a storm brewing, but that's it. Anyone in the area would have already run for shelter." He pointed to the ocean with his chin, azure eyes alight. "It's good that we chose this cave instead of remaining outside. The waves are kicking up pretty high."

As if to reiterate his point, the sky flashed and thunder rolled, deep and intimidating. Kilaen jumped and bit her lip, stifling her cry so it would not wake her companions. But the perceptive archer noted her reaction. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing's wrong!" she lied, pasting a wide grin to reassure him. The facade lasted until the next clash of heavenly drums.

"Kilaen, what's troubling you?" Sebastian asked, focusing on her with obvious concern.

She did not reply. Instead she tore herself out of her bedroll and ran for a small alcove in the back of the cave, where she crouched in the deepest, darkest corner and hid her face in her knees, clamping her hands tightly over her ears. For once she lacked all interest in the phosphorescent minerals glowing in the ceiling of the tiny cavern, and ignored the way they lit her skin with ghostly radiance.

"Kilaen!" Between the rolling peals his heavy footsteps followed, presumably stopping right in front of her. She clutched her head tighter at the next resounding _boom!_ This storm seemed to be possessed of the Maker's own fury. How could the others sleep through this much noise?

His hand, freed from metal and leather, gently smoothed some fallen hair behind her ear. Timidly, the rogue lifted her face enough to read the worried confusion in his beautiful eyes from where he knelt opposite her. "Kilaen?" he asked again, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"Sebas-" Her voice choked off on a terrified gasp with the next thunderclap. She screwed her eyes shut and huddled deeper into her alcove, vainly trying to hide from the storm.

Long minutes passed as she cowered in the darkness, all the while feeling his gaze upon her. Then Kilaen thought she heard something scrape the floor right before thunder crashed yet again. Before she had time to wonder if her mind was playing tricks on her, arms wrapped around her shoulders and drew her against a coat of tiny metal rings. Stunned, she let Sebastian arrange her so she lay between his legs and covered her with a blanket, keeping one hand protectively over her ear.

"Why didn't you tell me you're afraid of storms?" His broque rolled in his chest, against her pressed ear, allowing her to hear his question above the cacophony of thunder and water.

"I've...never told anyone," she confessed, burrowing tighter against him. Despite the ringmail, he was surprisingly comfortable to lean against. Had he not removed his breastplate, that probably would not be the case.

He patted her back soothingly, partially distracting her from the tempest outside. "You've always been the protector, haven't you? Everyone counts on your strength. But when was the last time you had someone to depend on?" The hand on her ear tightened a little in response to the loudest crash yet and he smoothed his fingers down her spine in an attempt to calm her. "Nobody knows about your fear? Not even your family?"

"I always hid under the bed when I was little. Then it was the wardrobes after I got older. Nobody thought anything of it, because I was always hiding around the house anyway." Kilaen pressed herself harder against him, snaking her arms around his chest and squeezing tight. She could enjoy the novelty of her position later, when she wasn't shaking with fear.

Had she just imagined the brush of his lips against her hair? "It's all right, Kilaen," he purred. "I'll protect you."

She nodded shortly and curled closer to the reassuring solidity of his body, too absorbed with her terror to notice the possessive pressure of his embrace. Later she would realize how he had held her, and blush when recalling exactly where she had been sitting. But now, all she knew was how much better she felt wrapped in his arm, letting him shelter her from the storm.


End file.
